The Oracle's Dead Fish

Maya's hair was already frizzing in the humidity, and she'd been at Jordan's pool party for exactly twelve minutes. She stood at the edge of the concrete deck, clutching her solo cup like it was a life preserver. Everyone else looked effortless—laughing, cannonballing, existing without overthinking every single microexpression.

"You look like a zombie," said Chloe, appearing beside her. Chloe, with her perfect beach waves and the kind of confidence that probably came with having parents who didn't get divorced right before freshman year.

"I'm just... observing," Maya lied. "Taking it in."

"We're at a pool party, not a crime scene." Chloe rolled her eyes, but not unkindly. "Come on. Someone brought a goldfish as a party trick."

A goldfish. In the wild. Maya followed Chloe toward the shallow end, where a crowd had gathered around a plastic bowl floating near the steps. Inside, a solitary orange fish swam in lazy circles, seemingly unbothered by the splashing and the pop music thumping from Jordan's bluetooth speakers.

"His name is Kevin," announced Tyler, who Maya had had a crush on since seventh period English. "I won him at the carnival. He's basically free housing now."

"That's not how pet ownership works," someone said.

"Whatever. Kevin's living his best life."

Maya's palms were sweating. She wiped them on her towel, feeling ridiculous. This was it—the moment. Talk to Tyler. About Kevin the goldfish. It was practically an opening sent from the universe.

But then someone splashed water directly at her face, and Maya yelped, stumbling back. Her towel slipped. Her hair, already a lost cause, plastered against her forehead. She looked like a drowned rat. A zombie drowned rat.

Tyler didn't even notice. He was busy moving Kevin's bowl to the shade.

Maya fled to the snack table, where she found a sophomore girl sitting cross-legged in the grass, holding someone's hand.

"Palm reading," the girl said without looking up. "Five bucks. Or I'll take three of those mini pizzas."

"I don't have five bucks," Maya said, then sat down anyway. "How do you know I'm not just here for the pizza?"

"You're here because you feel like a zombie at your own life." The girl traced a line on Maya's hand with her index finger. "You're waiting for something to happen, but you're too scared to make it happen yourself."

Maya stared at her. "That's not palm reading. That's just being sixteen."

The girl grinned. "Exactly. Kevin's going to die, you know. The goldfish. Bowl's too small."

"That's dark."

"That's life." She released Maya's hand. "Your hair looks fine, by the way. And Tyler's not worth the panic attack."

"How did you—"

"I've been watching you watch him." The girl stood up, brushing grass from her skirt. "Go swimming. Or don't. But stop hovering like you're waiting for permission to exist."

Maya looked back at the pool. Tyler and Kevin and the effortless crowd of people who seemed to know something she didn't. Then she looked at her hand, where the girl's fingerprint had left a faint smudge of sunscreen.

She took off her cover-up. She dove in.